


Coeur A Sucre

by ReyReySolo



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Cabane a sucre, Clumsy Rey, F/M, HEA, Pining, Québec, Romance, Rugged Ben Solo, Smart Rey, Soft Ben Solo, Sweet Rey, Woodsman Ben Solo, joual, maple syrup, québécois
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:35:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23762419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReyReySolo/pseuds/ReyReySolo
Summary: Benoît Soleaux has retreated to a life of solitude, running a small traditional maple syrup farm on the Île d'Orléans in Québec.Rey is tired of her busy life and takes sabbatical to reconnect with herself, returning to a place that captured her heart a long time ago.When she stumbles into Ben, something else begins to take its place.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey & Ben Solo, Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 48
Kudos: 62





	Coeur A Sucre

**Author's Note:**

> There is some French interspersed in dialogue. However, I have either translated it through characters' thoughts or attempted to make it contextually clear.  
> See End of Chapter Notes for a more relevant comprehensive translation of terms

Benoît Soleaux had been living practically, well solo, for a long time now. Longer than he could really remember. He had retreated from society, trying to keep a desperate grasp on and retain his roots. 

What better way than to dedicate himself to his grandfather’s cabane à sucre and érablière. 

His grandfather had practically built the little living cabin with his own hands after the fire had taken a more ancienne building; thankfully, the sugar shack remained and most of the trees had survived. His grandfather raised his children there, however, they had left it abandoned, wasting away. Ben never knew his grandfather but felt he could imagine what kind of man he was, or, perhaps wanted to be. He was never really told anything about him or his parents’ childhoods. 

Ben just wanted to feel close to the land again, close to his roots, to return to something real. He didn’t really mind his solitary lifestyle. He had enough interaction to keep himself occupied. The grocer on the other side of the island had practically everything he needed and he wasn’t that far from the nearest big box store if he needed more, God forbid. 

Over time, the île had changed, there were a few more modern houses, more commercialized cabane à sucres with the special dinners and folk music, the cideries had been gaining more following as well. But Ben was content to live in his little ‘shack’ tucked back a little farther in the middle of the woods. 

He still did things the old-fashioned way, the pure way, by hand without much heavy machinery. He had become quite handy over the years. Neighbors often called him down when they needed help clearing some brush or towing a car from the snow. He would get in his pick-up truck at the drop of a hat to help them out. Ben was that kind of man, quiet, mysterious, dependable. He only opened up enough of himself that was necessary but some things can be discerned; some qualities that run deeper than the surface always shine through the cracks. 

Ben had practically condemned himself to a life of solitude, living the way he did, the way he had chosen. Sure, there were the spring and summer tourists; they would stop by for a quick tour of his ‘quaint’ operation. He’d teach their kids how to roll the sirop on the ice - he enjoyed watching their sweet little faces light up with excitement at their first taste, their innate curiosity. He’d sell their parents some maple syrup, maybe some of his homemade jams, or, occasionally, a piece of furniture that he had lovingly crafted. For a fair price, of course; it was a hobby, after all, and his small domicile was already full. 

This isn’t to say that Ben was antisocial. He was involved in the life of the island. He participated in meetings, even served on some committees at times, but he often only spoke when he really meant it, when something truly mattered, and he was respected for it. He could be found at the local brewery usually twice a week, trying his friends’ new brews, playing a game or two of pool. Sometimes locals’ girls would come home from university or grad school for a visit and try to coax him into a dance or two during the traditional gatherings or festivals; he’d oblige for the group ones, but hadn’t often danced with a woman one-on-one in any other context. No one had ever caught his attention that way; he would’ve liked at this point if maybe one did, but what did he have to offer? Who would want to live the life he did, quiet and unimportant on the surface, but deep underneath? They all seemed to want big things; Ben was content, he thought. The old women at church often talked about him in what was supposed to be their Bible study; he’d seen them whisper off to the side about him after services. They had even tried to rope him into their schemes once or twice, but it had led to nothing. They couldn’t understand. 

* * *

Rey was tired of her life. The busyness, the noise, the demands. She longed to get away; she had made plans to take a sabbatical - she needed peace, to reconnect with herself once again. For years, she said she’d do it. That she’d go back to Québec . That she would reconnect with that part of herself; she had lived there before, a few summers back when she was in university. And even though she wasn’t raised speaking French or in the culture; there was something inside her that awakened when she lived there. She could feel it inside herself. This ancient part of her had come alive. She had felt home. Those summers were precious to her. Despite the fact that she hadn’t even really connected with anyone when she had lived there, she felt a depth of belonging. When she walked the streets in Quartier Saint Jean Baptiste, taking the bus out to église by herself, hearing God speak to her in French for the first time. She remembered the long quiet walks to the research lab and back every morning and afternoon. The farmer’s markets, her strolls along the Saint Laurent. The last night she had been there, crying on a bench beside the river, the lights of the Château Frontenac reflecting in the ripples, bathing her in a soft yellow glow. Telling herself one day, she would come back… 

Ten years passed. She never came back, though she had intended to with every spare vacation week… life had taken her different places than she expected. In a place she’d never dreamed. She didn’t regret it… but she sometimes remembered her past, the hopes and dreams she had stored in her heart. The things she thought about while slipping into slumber. 

Well, she was here now, perhaps a bit late. But that couldn’t be changed. She rented a tiny house on the edge of the island with a view of the river. The island she visited had always seemed so idyllic. She remembered those old dreams she had, the ones of living there with someone she loved and creating a little family. Living simply, creatively, organically, connected. She was finally there now, albeit alone, taking care to soak up this time for herself. She spent her days sitting on the back porch: reading, writing, just simply breathing. She’d walk along the edge of the river, a mile or two to the little pebble beach sticking her toes in the water, sometimes indulging in a swim though the waters were still quite chilly. She’d take little trips to the markets and cideries, visit the farms. She’d been to the microbrewery, a few little restos, and, of course, the éspace Félix Leclerc. But now she set out to discover. 

Walking through farm lands, tree-lined streets, she ventured into fields, then the woods and began to find herself lost. She had been walking a long time but was getting tired and disoriented. She was beginning to feel a bit nervous. She really hadn’t eaten that morning and her stomach was starting to growl and her throat wasparched. She noticed things changing around her. There were spigots popping up on old trees and sap buckets hanging; she was coming into a sugarbush. Ok good sign. She followed the trees and began to hear what sounded like faint gunshots. 

_What could someone possibly be shooting out here?_ She was filled with anxiety at the thought of a stray bullet grazing her, or worse, hitting her. 

“Ne tirez pas!” she yelled from behind a tree as she heard one last shot. All of the sudden there was a rustling noise; a tree was falling and headed towards her direction. She screamed and ran parallel to the tree towards where she presumed the stump must be.

“Tabarnak! Tu m’as fait peur!” Ben yelled. _Me, I scared him?!_ Rey was amused at this absurd idea, that she could frighten this hulking brute of a man. And he was something to look at alright. He was tall and broad; he stood there, the sweat droplets on his bare chest glistening in the sun. He looked pale and shook as he ran his hand through his raven-black hair. “You ok, miss?” he asked. Rey stood frozen, astounded… she could barely move as she watched him gently lower his axe to the ground to rest on the fresh stump and bent down to pick up his shirt and cover himself. Rey bottom lip quivered. “Ouais, ouais… tout est correct” she stuttered. She found herself brushing herself off, though there was nothing stray on her to be found. “It’s just that… euu.. I’m lost..” she said sheepishly, looking around aimlessly for anything else to make eye contact with, knowing it was an empty pursuit. “Désolé, c’est juste que… I thought that someone was shooting a gun… I…”

“Câlisse! Who would be out here just shooting in the middle of nowhere…. And who would be expecting someone to be running around lost on their property to begin with even if they were… that’s just… You’re not from here, are you? I mean anywhere around here…” He said, his voice softening as he noticed her beginning to bite her lower lip and eyes beginning to glaze.

“Aweille, I’ll help you find your way back”

“Merci”

He turned and waved to her to follow him. Rey was both reticent and grateful. She followed him through the woods; gazing in wonder at the tall maples, the sap buckets remained nailed in place under where spigots sat during sap season when the trees would produce their steady drip. She had never seen sap run in season and found herself wondering if maybe one day she would. She peered through the canopy of foliage above her squinting her eyes as the sun shone through and deeply inhaled that early summer breeze. 

“C’est pas loin d’icitte, là” Ben remarked. He gestured ahead of them where there was a more defined path and clearing. 

“This is so beautiful…” Rey remarked. “Is this all yours?”

“Ouais. It’s just me here.”

Rey found herself surprised, intrigued, and, it struck her as odd, a bit relieved. 

“Really? Just you, huh?”

“That’s what I said”

“How do you run this place by yourself?”

“I manage.”

Rey saw the outline of a building. 

“Is that it? Is that the cabane?” Rey’s eyes were wide and glowing

Ben saw her eyes and he couldn’t object to her silent plea… her sweet little frame seemed already pulled toward it 

“Would you… would you like to see it?” He had no idea that eyes could shine any brighter than hers already were until that moment. There was something captivating about them, this child-like joie de vivre. Her small body held such exuberant energy. He found himself holding back a smile for the first time in a very long time. 

She practically bounced all the way to the door. Ben caught up and walked alongside her. He pushed the door open in front of her and found himself touching her between her shoulder blades guiding her through. Her skin was soft against his rough, calloused hands. Rey felt warmth run through her, originating from his touch, traveling down her spine. She inhaled deeply as his fingers broke their contact with her body, trying to hide it; she didn’t expect his touch at all given his prior manner; its firmness contrasted with its gentleness, a delightful juxtaposition. 

Rey stepped forward into the space. 

She practically tripped running over towards the boiler, much to her chagrin. 

“T’es correct?” Ben inquired with tender concern

“Haha, just a little excitement, that’s all” Rey said, blushing. 

“Wow - look at this boiler… how, how does this work?”

“Well the concept is simple…” Ben started. 

He showed her the equipment, where the sap went, where the wood was placed in the unit, talked about boiling temperatures, sugar concentration, filtering the syrup, all the things you think about in the process. Rey was focused. Ben could tell when she would sometimes seem little confused by the little furrow in her brow and the little quizzical look on her face. He’d rework his words and watch the lines on her face fade away as her jaw softened. He could feel himself wanting to kiss her… to feel her soft lips pressed against his. 

But he had just met her; he didn't even know her name, he realized.. _Non, c’est fou._ A crazy idea that floated into his brain… he shouldn’t… so he didn’t. He pushed the thought out of his mind as he made himself step back from her. The sun wasn’t shining as bright. Rey looked at the window, noticing the same transition as Ben.  
  


“I suppose I should get you back home…” Ben said, almost reluctantly, at least Rey thought. She wondered if her getting lost wasn’t just about the best thing to happen to her since she’d been here. But… maybe he wasn’t feeling what she felt. She just nodded her head in response to him. 

They walked out and back up the trail, she followed him to what seemed must’ve been the cabin he lived in. There was a little storefront attached. His green F150 sat in a nearby drive outside a freestanding garage. 

“I have to grab my keys - you can look around the shop if you’d like”

“Yeah, I’d like that very much”

Rey entered the shop behind him as he walked across the room over to another door which he unlocked and passed through. Rey mosied around the storefront, looking at all the little bottles of syrup, the labels plain and direct “Érablière Soleaux”. There were different kinds, some with flavors infused. A little area had some trinkets, animals made from wood, some flags of the province, old nostalgic license plates… quaint… Rey’s curiosity brought her closer to the half opened door. She peaked through the gap, quietly opening it just a crack more. A comfortable, warm, but minimalist cabin. All the furniture appeared handmade - at least the kitchen table and chairs that she could see. There was a fireplace she could just barely make out… she could see the small, unexpectedly tidy kitchen. She wondered what the rest might look like. But before her imagination could wander too far, she heard footsteps and all the sudden saw Ben walking towards her… He caught her gaze.. She was embarrassed, she could feel her cheeks flushing… She quickly pretended to be interested in something else… Ben came through the door and shut it behind him. _What would he think?_

“T’es-tu prête?” He questioned. She turned to meet his regard.

“Yes, yes, I’m ready..” If he thought anything about what had just happened, he was gentlemanly enough not to bring it up or further embarrass her.

They walked over to the pick-up. Ben unlocked her door first, opening it, and offering her his hand to help her up. She gladly took it and felt tingles rise in her chest. She sat on the warm seat and pulled her arm into herself as he shut the door. Rey used the hand crank to manually roll down the window, feeling the cooped-up heat escape as it hit a developing evening breeze. Rey watched in the rearview as Ben walked around the back of the truck and soon got in beside her. She watched him place the key into the ignition, then as he grabbed the stick shift, placing the truck in gear. 

She made small talk about the shop with him as they drove. But truth be told, it was mostly her doing the talking, Ben listened occasionally nodding or asking a small question to show he was engaged. She felt the breeze as they drove along and watched the waves hit the shore as they were nearing where she was staying. 

It felt like both forever and no time at all by the time they arrived. He pulled up the drive and parked the car. Rey unbuckled herself and opened the passenger door. 

“Well, thanks for the lift…”

“Ben, Benoît Soleaux, euu.. You can call me Ben… pis toé?”

“Rey. Just Rey”

“Well Just Rey… maybe I’ll see you again”

“Yes… I hope.. I’d like that…” Rey said. Nervous and delighted. She jumped down from her seat and shut the door. She started to walk in front of the pick-up across to her door. 

“Rey!” Ben called 

She turned around and headed back to the driver’s side. Ben looked down and pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to her through the window. It was a cute glass maple leaf shaped bottle of syrup. It was surprisingly heavy and detailed. 

“C’est à toi,” he said

“Oh, thanks, Ben, its.. It's lovely… really”

“Hope you like it… I’ll see you around, kid”

“Yes… yes” Rey said as Ben shifted back into reverse.

She stood still, frozen, watching him pull out of the drive and head down the street, clutching the glass bottle hard in her hand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dictionary of Words  
> cabane à sucre - sugar shack, where you boil down the sap to make the syrup  
> érablière - sugarbush, collection maple trees used to harvest sap  
> éspace Félix Leclerc - museum on the island dedicated to famous folk singer who was born and lived on the island  
> Ne tirez pas - Don't shoot  
> Tabarnak - Joual curse word, close to Fuck, literally from the word tabernacle a remnant of the regions past relationship with the church  
> Tu m’as fait peur - you scared me  
> Ouais - colloquial way of saying yes  
> correct - ok  
> Désolé - sorry  
> Câlisse - Joual curse word, close to crap/shit  
> Aweille - Let's go  
> C’est pas loin d’icitte, là - It's not far from here  
> Non, c’est fou - no that's crazy  
> T’es-tu prête? - are you ready (quebecisme to use tu as a question particle)  
> pis toé - and you, joual form of 'puis toi'


End file.
